“I suppose I love this life, in spite of my clenched fist.”
— Andrea Gibson, “Birthday” (via howl-in-rockland)

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@skywardix-iv-xi
“I suppose I love this life, in spite of my clenched fist.”
— Andrea Gibson, “Birthday” (via howl-in-rockland)
retiring to your chambers >>>>>>
Cats crave routine so much that if you don't give them any, they'll invent some for you and then get pissed off if you don't follow the secret rules that they decided for the household
A Dramatic October Sunrise
trauma and nostalgia are sisters and they kiss each other on the teeth
“She used to suffer these intense bouts of homesickness in her own bedroom. When she was very small, she would wake up tearing at her bedspread and shrieking, “I wanna go home! I wanna go home!” Which was distressing to all of us, of course, because she was home.”
Karen Russell, St. Lucy's Home for Girls Raised by Wolves
“I’m not too gone to be healed, am I? I’m not too gone am I?”
Alice Notley, from In The Pines: Poems; “In The Pines
“Sometimes I can hear my bones straining under the weight of all the lives I'm not living.”
Jonathan Safran Foer, Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close
“But it is not bravery; I have no choice. I wake up and live my life. Don’t you do the same?”
— Anthony Doerr, All The Light We Cannot See (via anditslove)
“This house creaks and moans even when no one moves. I can relate. I think my bones are filled with lead, I think I’d sink to the ocean if you had the gall to throw me in. I wish you would. My fingers ache from holding onto things I have no business hoarding, things I have no business loving. What I am trying to say is I wouldn’t mind a little rest.”
— Michelle K., What I am Trying to Say.
“I’d spent the last three years trying to build up some kind of a skin, so I wouldn’t drip with blood every time I brushed up against something.”
— White Oleander, Janet Fitch (via decreation)